Marines and Machines
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: Bishop noticed things. He noticed that the USCMC never left a man behind. He noticed how often they declared that was the case. He noticed that after the events on LV-426, Winter had stayed true to Cruz's last request. And he noticed that the gulf between him and his human comrades had diminished quite a bit.


**Marines and Machines**

There were no "ooh-rahs," Bishop noted.

Then again, there wasn't much sound at all aside from the thunder in the sky and the engines of the ship on the ground. There wasn't any weapon fire, or the screeches of aliens, or the screams and shouts of those who fired the weapons in the first place. There was only the thunder. The engines. And the thud-thud-thud of combat boots making their way across the surface of LV-426 and into the last functioning ship on the moon.

"Move it people, move it."

Some of those boots belonged to Corporal Winter.

The synthetic watched the marine trudge back towards the ship parallel to the sixty other soldiers making their way towards their only way off the moon. He watched him yawn. He watched him press his hands against the exterior of the ship and close his eyes.

"Corporal," the synthetic murmured by way of greeting.

Winter glanced at him. "Bishop. Didn't see you."

"Funny. I thought I'd stand out."

"Yeah, well, there's thousands of you right?"

Humour. It was a coping mechanism. The synthetic concluded it would be best to follow it.

"Maybe for not much longer. Not if we take down Weyland."

Given the look the marine gave him, Bishop concluded that he'd failed in the humour endeavour. So staring at Winter's visage, he decided to employ a different approach.

"You look like shit."

Winter smirked for a micro-second. It was a small victory. But for a synthetic, a noticeable one.

What would have been noticeable even for a non-artificial person was that Winter not only looked like "shit," but probably felt like it also. It would explain why he pressed his back against the ship's hull and slid down onto the ground. Why he was barely talking. Why any of the marines were talking for that matter. As the de facto leader of the _Sephora_'s remaining crew, Bishop concluded it would be best to keep the marine's spirits up.

"Cruz would be satisfied," the synthetic murmured. "Getting his men home."

"Sixty out of an entire battalion?"

"As a percentage, it's a marked improvement over the colonist death ratio or that of the _Sulaco _crew."

"Fuck percentages. And besides, we're not heading home. Not yet."

Bishop knew that was the probable course of action. Thanks to his synthetic doppelganger that had tried to impersonate the real Michael Weyland, he knew that his creator was currently in orbit of Fiorina 161. Whether he'd still be there by the time the _Sephora_'s marines arrived was unlikely, but it was the only lead they had. And Winter had made it clear that he was intent on pursuing it.

The synthetic watched as the last marine boarded the ship. He watched as Winter remained outside. He watched as the corporal cast his gaze towards the Derelict.

"Something on your mind?" Bishop asked.

"I'm wondering about the PMC soldiers," Winter murmured. "Wondering if I could afford to save them as well."

Bishop remained silent for a second. It was a surprising sentiment who had spent the last day fighting Weyland-Yutani's soldiers as often as the xenomorphs.

"Still, it might cause more harm than good in the long run," Winter said, returning his gaze to Bishop. "Even if they feel screwed over by the Company, the rest of the boys and girls probably wouldn't want them sharing bunk space."

"Captain Cruz instructed you to leave no marine behind," Bishop said. "You have fulfilled that mission."

"Yeah, so? Heck, if you were out there Bishop I'd save you in an instant. Even if you're not…well…"

Bishop stared at him.

"You know what I mean."

"I know that I am synthetic, and not technically a member of the United States Colonial Marine Corps."

"Yeah, but you know I'd not leave you behind any more than any of the other guys, right?" Winter asked. "Heck, aside from O'Neal, you're the only real friend I've got left on this rock."

"What about Lieutenant Reid?"

Winter averted Bishop's gaze. "We…er, may be a bit beyond the friend zone."

Bishop nods. Part of his programming told him that he should point out that for an NCO and CO to go beyond the "friend zone" was a breach of protocol concerning fraternization. Another part of his programming told the original part to go to hell.

_Strange._

Maybe it came from the doppelganger's programming. Maybe it was what humans called 'bonding.' Maybe it was just the ghost in the machine talking.

Either way, he liked the idea of Winter calling him a friend.

He also liked the idea of considering him a friend in turn.

* * *

_A/N_

_So, _Colonial Marines _has finally been released and...well, so far I've only got reviews and playthroughs to go on, but suffice to say, neither of them have given me a particularly favourable_ _opinion of the game. Nor has some of the writing. As in, Captain Cruz or some other character declaring "we don't leave marines behind" _every five minutes!_ I'd like to think that particular tidbit was made clear in the game's intro..._

_But anyway, sparked the idea for this oneshot I guess, so I guess it's not all bad._


End file.
